Xenogenous Ways of Falling
by Indigo Lights
Summary: But he knew this for sure: his demons knew how to calm down with the sound of her name.
1. Chapter 1

_**Xenogenous Ways of Falling**_

_**A two-chapter story by Indigo Lights**_

**Disclaimer: **Plot's mine, characters are not.

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_**First Chapter:**_

Hermione Granger have always found solace in riding red buses around Muggle London.

There were times when she'd take a one-way ticket to go around the city in an hour-long ride just to think and nothing more. She'd watch as the crowd gathers up in a pedestrian, waiting for the stop light to turn red so they could cross the road. Or she'd smile as the city lights guide a lost dog home. When it rains, she'd prefer to climb up the second floor and peer as some woman used her purse for shield.

It was a beautiful and magnificent. Just observing. Just looking around and finally realizing that though she was lonely, she was never alone.

And as Hermione Granger walked inside a red bus from a stop near the Big Ben, eyes brimming red because of tears, she peered out of the window and wondered if he'd followed her here. In circumstances that she'd gone to ride because of their arguments, he would always follow. It was a thing that made her secure; that this – this was just another one of their petty fights.

The hours ridiculously tolled on her wrist watch. Every time that the driver would push the _OPEN _button, she'd look up, expecting him there, but he didn't come. The skies began to darken, and pedestrians were again swarming up the available seats in the bus. A fair-toned woman, about twice her age of twenty-three, sat down beside her.

Her heart fell down his stomach; he wasn't coming.

This realization made her jolt up, pushing the button that was used to signal the driver to stop. She went down the steps and sighed, looking up. The winter finally made way for the fall – her favourite time of the year. She looked at the buildings crumpled along the streets of London, walking to an alley with a heavy heart.

_Maybe it wasn't such a petty fight at all, _she had thought. _If there's no owl, then it must have not._

Hermione quickly looked around for some Muggles lurking around. When she saw that the coast was clear, she apparated.

Moments later, a loud _crack! _rang in her flat. It was empty. No owl inside. No notes or whatever as a sign that he'd made peace with her. She didn't know what to think about this. Maybe it was just her imagination. Maybe it was a good thing that they're finally unbound to each other – or that it wasn't, because she's losing him.

Then she'd remembered that there were times when she'd been so stubbornly refusing his apologies, no matter how she knew he'd shove away his pride and sincerely apologize. She never saw the point in it, because she's really more on the actions than the words. She's more than aware that her own words could have this… vile in them. Words that could easily offend. So instead, she'd reciprocated in actions.

His eyes, she'd last seen, were clouded with some kind of storm. It was always a mystery to her; those beautiful, unforgettable eyes. She'd read them when she's free of her time. She'd think about how beautiful they were, so enchanting that one could easily get lost in them. Once, she even thought about the reasons why he fell in love with such a girl as her – she was never special. Her eyes were this muddy shade of brown and her hair was never kept.

And then she asked him why. He told her that he fell in love with her because of it. Because she became more beautiful when her flaws were enumerated. Because he'd love her even more when he'd discovered that she wasn't perfect.

Hermione Granger pondered how a mere argument could make things this worse.

"_You listened, yes! But you never understood! So what good does that entail?"_

She was so angry at him. All he ever replied was _"Nevermind."_

Then, she said nothing about his passiveness and told him to go find another woman who wouldn't give her a hard time, since, she reckoned, that was what she's all had ever given him. And she walked out, leaving him there, in his home, alone.

But wasn't this what she was wishing for? That she was young – she ought to do those things that she read in her well-written books. She's an adventurer! She's twenty-three and, hell, she has yet to establish a context about Muggleborn Equality and Elvish Welfare. She's an independent young woman who'd want to go out of her way to watch a movie _alone._ Do things _alone_. And she felt bound to him because – God forbid – it was almost suffocating.

Her future was so very carefully laid down in front of her and all she had to do was follow the path. But she wasn't able to do that – no. Because she thought she was being held back by him. And that, in return, she thought she was holding him back too, feeling guilty for it. A person who's bright but never had any assurance. It was what described him the most. He was never certain about anything. He'd always find a flaw in something about his work or his education or what else. And that made her insecure for a good amount of times.

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. She jumped to her bed and let the drowsiness settle in. Her exhaustion was enough to keep her from the reality that lies when she wakes up. It was enough to distract her from the impending cruelty of a morning without a reason to get up to.

In her dreams, he haunted her.

It was the first time that they had kissed. She laid down on his chest as he gently stroke her unruly curls. She thought he'd smell like vanilla and citrus, and it was an uncanny but a very satisfying scent. It made her head spin around.

They were fully clothed – it was around Christmas and the snow had been rather furious. He was holding her close and trying to make them both fall asleep, but only found out that they can't. They were too ecstatic – it was their first night together after the war, after they'd finally admitted their feelings for each other and every one of their friends knew – and surprisingly accepted. The war changed that.

The sensation was amazing. To finally love a person without much grudge, just plain love. A person who's admittedly more beautiful than you and yet, he chose you. It was, in her terms, one of the best things in the world. And it's free. So the best things were really free.

Both of them merely talk about their thoughts about this. Her insecurities about how he could just smile and take a girl's breath away. It was proven that two years later, he still does that to her.

He promised that if she's the only one, she's the only one.

And then she woke up, tears welling out of the corners of her eyes.

It wasn't as if it was morning yet – let alone noon. It was about three in the morning when she'd awoken, showered and put the kettle on. She made some tea to calm her down, but only stared at it as she numbly stirs the teaspoon to the _now _cold liquid. Her appetite seems to go low with her mood.

She thought about the times when he'd gotten _too _close with that Astoria Greengrass – who, if she was to judge, was more than a match for him than her. She cried almost every night in the quiet corners of her flat after plastering that fake smile she had when he tells her about their newly-formed friendship. She was a Slytherin, after all. It was, with much sense, that the two of them should be friends.

And so when she'd had enough, she told him about it and told her, in her peace of mind, to end the friendship formed. Because she thought it was unfair. That she almost left Ron and Harry behind when the two of them got in a relationship. It was so unfair.

In his loving heart, he told her to keep the friendship even though he'd let his away.

This was the most unselfish thing that Draco Malfoy did for Hermione Granger. And she'd known that. She'd known it very much and wondered always if it still was a regret for him to do that, especially when they'd fight. That maybe, yes, Astoria Greengrass could be so much better for him than her, a mere Muggleborn. Not even a trace of magic in her blood.

But she was a witch. And she was unselfish too, in her defence. Because he's the one who volunteered to stay away – she didn't tell him to do so. Because, he'd told her, he could see that she's so hurt when it happened. Because she was insecure.

She shoved the thoughts aside.

It was now five in the morning. She needed some sleep.

The thing about Draco Malfoy was that, after the war, he had changed. She was his probation officer, and they got along just fine. All the way until the end of his probation, he'd gain her respect. Hermione felt like he could be something of much worth, that he was smarter than her – and she hated to admit that. He's certainly everything to look for – and what really had her looking at him was the fact that he was mature enough to face the consequences of his actions.

After his year of service for the Ministry, he asked her out on a date.

They were quite happy for a while. For about a couple of years, even. Of course, occasional spats were thrown here and there, but they loved each other too much to even let that get in the way. At the end of year two, he'd proposed to her and she accepted.

However, their third year had come. Hermione felt like she was always so irritated. Draco had sensed this, of course. He told her about that. They talked about it, but she was kind of closing her ears for some reasons, saying _"Yeah, I'm always the weird one. Nevermind."_

And that, she thought, was why he was doing the same.

It's not like they don't love each other. It's just that the spark was washed out.

In those times, she doubted their relationship would've worked. She saw him fail, again and again. She saw him in her father – and how her father was left because her mother was tired of watching him being contented to a very unsatisfactory life.

Draco lacked of will. They started a bookstore in Muggle London, but he was too kind to give the books half their price to anyone who will bargain. It wasn't as if he was like that back in Hogwarts, she had thought. They needed to be practical. Hermione knew he was rich enough to live forever and not work, but if they're going to be in a future together, she'd say they needed to start building things up.

There was also one time when he'd given up his Healership. Only a year left and he would've been a licensed healer. But he let go of that, saying that he could still practice being a healer without actually graduating. She told him that it was still nice to have a title and that it was a waste for it to go to waste.

Her respect was quietly draining from its basin. Every time she saw him fail and give up, it was as if a drill poke through the container. It continues to flow until there's barely anything left.

So she told him.

And all he did was stare at her from his sofa with that blank look on his face. Nothing. She told him to speak and asked if he was listening. He said yes.

That mere argument, nevertheless, brought her back to the present. Her only intention was to see him change for the better – to get that spark and the usual beam in his eyes back.

But she knew he'd had enough. She knew for sure that it was the last straw. That he was tired of getting to her expectations of him when, in her point, he failed her every damn time. So he said "_Never mind", _and it hurt like a flat iron that was recently on fire was brought to her chest.

She knew what she had to do, then. She needed to say sorry – but all she did was step out of the door and ride the bus.

_What now?_ She thought as she stared at her bed, not bothering to even lie down.

Did she want him back?


	2. Chapter 2

_**Xenogenous Ways of Falling**_

_**A two-chapter story by Indigo Lights**_

**Disclaimer: **Plot's mine, characters are not.

**A/N: **It's all inspired from my The Script's playlist. Enjoy and please review!

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_**Second Chapter:**_

Draco Malfoy sat on his couch - the couch where he'd sat earlier.

It's been eight full hours when she'd left. Eight long hours and he haven't had any sleep. It was funny, he'd thought. He actually felt more alive now than in the past few months. Why had he felt this, though? He loved her. He'd loved her to the point that he would be so willing to leave his family and anything else behind. What exactly went wrong?

But it's bound to happen soon. They have had been rather sharp with their tongues lately. The bad thing was they'd wait for it to be over rather than actually fix the whole thing. It hurt him a lot. It hurt him that he almost gave up.

"Three years, and I thought it was going to forever." He shook his head and pick his tea up. It was just about two in the morning. He's waiting for her to be the first to say sorry this time - as he was the only one who knew how to apologize. Well, actually she had, but very rarely. Only about twice when she knew she was truly wrong.

But she was right - like always. She was right that he had changed. That he was not really the man that she had fallen in love with. He lacked of motivation. Stress had taken that toll on him.

They were getting married in two months! Does this mean that the wedding's off? God, he had finally gotten his parents to be at the wedding. All invitations were ready to be owled in a week's time. They've already made reservations, counted the guest list, and chose the food to be served. _Hell_, she'd even bought his first ever tuxedo just so her relatives wouldn't be so weird out - and his father too will be wearing one!

It was so maddening. Of course, he'd been on the edge. Come on, she wasn't really helping in any of the preparation! He was tired - tired to the point that he'd fall asleep on the dinner table.

But he kept thinking about her - _Hermione Granger_. Never thought he'd get engaged with Potter's best mate - but he did. And it had its consequences.

The worst of it was that he was getting lower and lower, that the more he sees her succeed, the more he felt bitter. It's not as if he felt that she should stoop down his level just to make him feel good, it's just that he wished that they were together in it - in success.

To think of it, she was so far away right now - and he didn't mean that literally. He meant that she was so high up that he couldn't reach her any more. She barely had time to visit him in his flat - and when she does, they'd go in a spat.

It had started when Hermione got the job from Witch Weekly - which he had thought she had hated more than everything. And she did hate it, only bothering to be in the publishing because it would help her get her name out there. Hell, she's Hermione Granger, practically the brightest witch of this age, anybody in their right mind would get her manuscript from her little hands before she even had the chance to announce her arrival. But of course, being Gryffindor and all, she said that the war and all that was very different. She wanted to make a name of herself in the publishing.

For three months, he'd had seen her hair transform from her wild curls to... well, not _so_ wild. The way she dress had changed as well. From her usual jumper, she'd had fancy dress robes. It was nice at first, but he realized that he simply didn't like the new clothes or the new look. He'd fallen in love with the _'plain, old Hermione'_ in the first place.

No wonder he'd manage to say that. To _'never mind'_ her. And what she'd said? It pained him still. When he closed his eyes, only the sight of her saying that he wasn't good enough anymore plague him.

He didn't know what to do. Maybe, he'd always wanted this. Maybe not. But he never wanted to let her go, right? Sure, they might not be the most perfect couple in the whole wide universe, but he knew that despite their _dysfunctionality_, they could always work things out.

He'd never give up on her - and it's funny how much Gryffindor qualities have rubbed on him.

It was three in the morning now. He needed a drink.

Draco stood in the doorway, wondering if she might come back while he's out. Nevertheless, he left her key under the pot of Aloe Vera on his front door. He knew she would know what to do.

He rode the local bus - the red one. Hermione loved being able to ride here. It was her _'happy place'_, as he remembered her saying.

There were only about five people riding the bus. All were muggles apart from him. After living in Muggle London for quite a while, he didn't actually mind anymore - all was well if they didn't talk to him.

The bus was playing a weird muggle song about holding your hand. He recognized the artist. Hermione loved that band. It was about an insect, some kind of black bug. Weird names.

He pressed the _STOP_ button beside him and boarded out the bus.

The pub he went to was a muggle one. He liked the alcohol here, from the others. Actually, Hermione and him were known here because they used to come here with Potter and friends. Besides, he knew that only The Leaky Cauldron was open at this time of the day - and boy, he hated that place. Since the bar keeper was changed to Hannah Abbott, it wasn't as great as before.

"Oy! Malfoy, you old coot!" The old bar keeper shouted as he entered, not even startling the other ten customers. "Where's that lovely lass of yours? Haven't seen her for months now."

"Home." He muttered, sitting on a bar stool. "Hey, Kyle. Give me something strong. Maybe some whiskey, perhaps?"

Kyle looked at him knowingly. "Long night, huh? Must be some fighting."

Draco nodded, elbows on the bar and face in his hands. "This is relationship suicide."

"Been there, done that." The keeper slid the glass to him, "Alcohol won't be the best remedy to a broken heart, you know."

"I know." He replied, "But it's hell lot better than sulking around. Pathetic."

"I've been married for fifteen years now, Malfoy. I know how hard it will be. It ought to be worth the pain if she's the one."

"Said she lost respect. What do I do then? Try and suffocate her more with myself?" He let out a bitter laugh, "Yeah, _that'd_ work."

Kyle shook his head and simply said "Space." He left him to tend to two other customers who just came in. Malfoy continued drinking.

By quarter to five, he had about five empty glasses of whiskey in front of him and not entirely drunk as he had hoped. He finished his sixth and threw in his payment on the counter. "I'll go ahead, Kyle."

Kyle smiled at him sadly and shook his head, mumbling "That lad only gets drunk when they've had a row."

He went out and walked towards the next stop, thinking about how she'd only like to walk whenever it's night time and the lights in the city were very bright. If she were with him here today, she would've asked him to levitate her until they get to the stop. He never really figured out why that was, but he knew well enough that she have had enough of walking through her life.

When his bus stopped in front of him, he climbed in, gave his payment, and chose to sit on the very back. The bus wasn't as empty as he would expect it to be. Maybe, it's because people were finally up to work this early morning.

It was a thirty-minute ride to his home. The route from his house to the pub was different from the route from the pub to his house. It would take twice the time to go home.

Draco knew that he needed some sleep. The alcohol finally sunk a bit, numbing him. He leaned against the glass window and closed his eyes, knowing full well that he wasn't going to get mugged. All of those who were taking the bus this early was either half-asleep or asleep altogether.

Unsurprisingly, when the bus reached the familiar winding road, he woke up and pushed the _STOP_ button. He went down the bus and walked to an alley to his home.

The key was still under the pot of his Aloe Vera plant. He knew full well that she didn't bother coming.

He was in denial, then. He told himself that it might be that she was sleeping, but he knew better. Hermione couldn't sleep very well when they had a row - but maybe, it's just another change. Maybe, she's sleeping soundly now, not even affected by all of it.

Well, certainly, he wasn't the one who's going to apologize first. For three years now, he's been the only one who did that. She only did so very rarely.

However, he left the key under the plant. Maybe, she'd also wake up and change her mind.

Malfoy untangled his scarf from his neck and threw it carelessly on the table. He hung his coat on the chair and went to the kitchen to wash his face. After he did so, he changed to his shirt and climb to his bed, lying on his side and facing the window. He bound to get some sleep soon.

It was about nine in the morning when he heard his front door being open. He hoped it was her, but nonetheless, he still didn't know if he was being broken in. He didn't care, his money was up in Gringotts. They'd only find garbage here. Nothing of much worth apart from the gifts he gave her.

So he didn't bother getting up, only staring on the window. If they were to attack him, his wand was under his pillow.

The house stayed silent, though. He hadn't heard of people barging through his cupboards. It stayed still, as if he was only imagining that someone had come inside his house. He closed his eyes once more, hoping to go back to sleep.

After a few moments, his half-unconscious mind heard the door to his bedroom creaked open. There was a sudden weight on his bed, a light touch on his arm. The touch gently began to get closer, warming him up.

The person who came in hesitated, but went on to wrap its arm around his torso, laying its head on his shoulder.

He felt a smile tugging on the corners of his lips, hearing a quiet "I'm sorry." _It was his Hermione._ "I quit my job." She mumbled, tightening her embrace.

Draco Malfoy might not be the luckiest man in the whole Wizarding World, but he was lucky enough to have her. He realized in that moment that falling in love, even though it's xenogenous to his ways, was worth the pain. Maybe, he'd gone too soft when she's around. Maybe he had finally matured.

But he knew this for sure: his demons knew how to calm down with the sound of her name.

"Glad you're home."


End file.
